Dark Half
by Flaming Trails
Summary: Doc's sadistic twin decides to torture him by kidnaping Marty. But things aren't exactly how they appear. . . A NonTrilogy Story
1. An Accident in 55

Evil Twin

By Flaming Trails

A Back To The Future Story

Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this disclaimer.

Prologue

This is a story from Normal Doc's world. Normal Doc is like VampDoc, only without the vampire business. No Clara or other adventures past Doc going into the future.

But, as you'll see, you don't necessarily need all that time-hopping to have some wacked-out adventures. . . .

  


Chapter 1

Thursday, November 10th, 1955

Hill Valley, California

2: 14 P. M.

Dr. Emmett L. Brown carefully adjusted the delicate instrument before him. He ran his eye over the dials and nodded his approval. "Everything is in functional order. We're ready for the primary testing."

Marty smiled at younger Doc's extremely technical and precise way of talking. "Okay, let's go for the gold."

Doc blinked at the slang, then shrugged it off. He made a few more adjustments to the mind-reading machine, then picked up the geodesical helmet and carefully strapped it onto his head. The machine began to quietly hum. Doc picked up a suction-cup like sensor, then paused, looking at the teen before him. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? I can always substitute Copernicus if you're uneasy."

Marty shrugged and kept smiling. "The first time you tried this on me, I had just walked in the door, Doc. You weren't too keen on asking if I wanted to then. I'm okay with it."

Doc chuckled as he recalled that fateful night a few days ago. He moistened the suction cup and stuck it to Marty's forehead. Electrical impulses started racing up the wires on top of the machine. "Now, just think of your full name and your date of birth. You never told me either piece of information, so it should be a dependable and secure check to test if the machine is workable."

Marty did so, hoping that the mind-reader would work. Doc had done all he could to make sure it was in perfect working order. If it did work, Marty was going to sneak in a warning about him getting shot in the future. The resultant death of his friend in 30 years had been preying on his mind lately, what with the mess with his parents. He had to make sure it didn't happen. "Okay, Doc, got it."

"Shh!" Doc concentrated hard, trying to sense thoughts through the haze of static he 'heard'. Marty concentrated just as hard on his name and birthdate.

After a minute, Doc sighed. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Six months of labor and planning, and all I hear is static! I can get that on the radio!"

"Try it again, Doc," Marty urged, not wanting to give up. "Twist some of those dials or something."

Doc looked at the settings. "You could be right, my friend. I might have the setting wrong." He adjusted a few dials and tried again. They both concentrated hard, but there was no connection.

Doc tweaked the settings 5 times before finally throwing up his hands. "I give up, Marty! The machine simply does not want to function." He started to unhook his receiving helmet.

"Hang on a sec, Doc," Marty begged, wanting one last chance. "You never touched that dial." He pointed to a knob slightly separate from all the others. "Maybe it's a tone up/down thing. Is it?"

Doc looked at the knob. He knew he had told himself never to use that particular knob, but he didn't remember why. It was quite possible Marty was right and it was a 'volume control', so to speak. If he 'turned up the volume', maybe he'd be able to hear thoughts in the static. It was worth a shot. "Sharp eyes, Marty. I'll try it. Start concentrating."

Marty shut his eyes and thought hard. Shutting his own eyes, Doc turned the knob.

It turned out Doc had not used the knob because it was wired to a noncrucial faulty part. Turning the knob had a tendency to give those involved in the experiment nasty electric shocks. And that's just what it did to Doc and Marty.

"YOW!" Marty ripped off the suction cup and held his head. It felt like a bolt of energy had passed through his brain! With a sudden headache, he slumped against the machine.

Doc let out his own cry of pain and immediately switched off the machine. "God DAMN IT!" he yelled. His brain felt like it had just been jolted awake. He quickly unstrapped the helmet from his head and ran to get some aspirin or something to relieve the pain.

He returned with the aspirin and a cold towel for Marty. "I'm so sorry, kid. I forgot that part was faulty. Are you okay?"

"I've got a killer headache," Marty moaned, holding his head. Doc pressed the cold towel to his forehead and handed him 2 aspirin and some water. "Jesus, Doc, I'm sorry, are you okay?"

"It's not your fault. I should have labeled that dial." Doc watched as Marty gulped down the water and aspirin. For a moment, he had a strange feeling as he watched the kid. A feeling his life had suddenly and irrevocably been connected to Marty's, that a link had prematurely formed between them. Then it was gone, replaced by worry over the teen's condition. "Has that assisted you any?"

"Yeah, I feel a little better." Marty looked at Doc and felt - odd. It was like something that had been sleeping in his brain had been awakened. He felt close to Doc, like they were somehow part of each other. Then the feeling faded in a wash of pain.

Doc angrily kicked the machine. "Stupid piece of junk! I'm tearing it apart tomorrow. It doesn't work and it's not safe. There's no reason to hold onto it." He looked back at Marty, eyes filled with concern. "I'm so sorry this had to happen to you, especially at a time like this. Why don't you go lie down for a little while?"

"Yeah, okay." Marty headed up to the room Doc was loaning to him during his visit. "_Too bad for Doc. I know he put a lot into that machine. But what was that funny feeling?_"

Doc shrugged. "_My scientific calculations must have been flawed. Damn, six months labor. . . . Well, maybe I could use some of it in the time machine I'm destined to invent. But I have no idea what that strange feeling was._"

It was rather unfortunate neither of them spoke aloud. Otherwise, they would have realized the machine had worked. Just not quite the way Doc had intended it to work.

It had created a mental link between their minds.

And it would take them 30 years to realize it had happened.


	2. Kidnaping

Chapter 2

Monday, April 14th, 1986

Hill Valley

11: 10 A. M.

Marty handed Doc the wrench and kept tightening screws on the new addition to the amplifier. Doc took the wrench and started tightening a nut on the electricity rerouter to keep what had happened on October 25th, 1985, from ever happening again. A moment later, he asked, "Marty, could you hand me the-"

He blinked when he realized he was holding the wrench. He looked back at Marty. "It happen again?" he said with a smile.

Marty smiled back. "Yeah, I guess it did." The 'it' was Marty or Doc's strange ability to sense what the other needed sometimes before they needed it. They just considered it part of their close relationship. They shrugged off it's latest appearance and went back to work on the electricity rerouter.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Puzzled, Doc glanced up. "Strange. I'm not expecting any visitors." He got up and headed for the door, Marty remaining with the recently repaired amp. "This had better not be another solicitor," he grumbled, opening the door.

An elderly woman stood there, her white hair neatly combed back and brown eyes twinkling. She smiled and held out her arms. "Hello, Emmett!"

"Emily!" Doc laughed, giving the woman a hug. "Well, this is a surprise! It's wonderful to see you again, sis. How are you?"

"Fine, just fine," she told him, pulling away. "Rick sends his regards. I was on a trip to visit a friend in this general area and thought I'd stop by for a couple of days."

"It's so good to see you, Emily. How is Harriet?"

"Oh, she's fine. She's got a daughter of her own now, little Jaime." She chuckled. "Judging from her latest craze, she's going to be a police officer."

Doc smiled, knowing that little Jaime Reese would become just that, as well as her best friend Lucille Foley. "Well, that's a commendable profession. Come on in, I was just working with my assistant."

"Ah, the infamous Marty McFly?" Emily grinned, coming in.

"The very same." Doc turned towards the teen, hidden by boxes. "Marty? Come here, I want you to meet someone."

Marty stood up and looked over at Doc and Emily. "Hey Doc, who's your friend?"

"This is my sister Emily, Marty," Doc said with a smile. Marty blanched briefly, but quickly recovered. "Emily, this is Marty."

"Pleasure to meet you, Marty," Emily said, approaching him and shaking hands. "Emmett's told me a lot about you." She cocked her head. "But shouldn't you be at school now?"

"It's Spring Break at the school. Doc mentions you often too," Marty smiled, winking at Doc. Just a week ago, Marty had gone back to when Doc was a teenager and become stranded when the DeLorean had malfunctioned. He had actually stayed in Doc's old house as "Michael Jackson". He had met Emily then, and was hoping she wouldn't recognize him from then. "Emmett and Emily. Why the heck did your parents name you like that?"

"Mom and Dad liked the name Emmett, but I came first," Emily explained. "I'm sure your parents had a reason for naming you Marty."

Marty nearly burst out laughing. "Yeah, I guess you're right. You wanna see what we're working on?"

"I'd love to, Marty." She walked over to the amp, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, my, Emmett! You certainly spared no expense on this!"

"It was a 15th birthday present for Marty," Doc said, sliding his arm around Marty's shoulders. "He accidentally blew it up late last year, so I'm improving it."

"Oh." She shook her head, marveling at their easy closeness. "Yes, now I remember. You wrote about it in one of your letters. How the heck did you get it to explode, Marty?"

"I tried to crank it up - _way_ up," Marty blushed faintly. "It overloaded the machine. I took a spill into the bookcase." 

"_Spill_?" Doc repeated, smiling. "Marty, you flew into my bookcase and knocked it over!"

"Hey, if you'd warned me about the overload earlier," Marty said, his eyes smiling. Emily rolled her eyes.

"Do you two ever fight?" she asked, still looking over the amp. "I've never met two people as close as you. Well, never two guys anyway."

"Oh, we've had a couple of fights, but nothing severe enough to break up a friendship over," Doc admitted, coming over to examine the amplifier. "We're just a pair of really close people. Nothing to get excited over."

"Well, when a person like you, after your childhood, is able to get close to a person like that. . . ."

Marty shrugged. "We just clicked, Ms. Brown. Like we were fated to be friends."

"You can call me Emily, Marty. And I can see what you mean. You two belong together." She looked between the friends a moment, then focused her attention on Doc. "Can I see some of the other inventions now too? I'm eager to see what you and Marty have been working on."

Wednesday, April 16th, 1986

Hill Valley

1: 20 P. M.

Jennifer snuggled against Marty on the porch swing they were rocking on. "Oh, Marty, I've missed doing this, just us. You're so soft. . . ."

Marty ran his fingers through her hair. "I know. With all that junk in school and Doc and me fixing the amp. . . . I love you so much, Jennifer." He leaned down and kissed her gently.

"I love you too, Marty," Jennifer whispered, listening to him breathe. "How's things?"

"Okay. Doc's sister is over for a visit."

"Really? The one you met back in the 1930s? What's she like now?"

"Hasn't changed much in the years," Marty admitted, getting more comfortable. "Still like Doc in a lot of ways. She hasn't recognized me yet, though, which is good."

"Yeah, it could cause some nasty problems if she did." They rocked for a little while more, just enjoying each other's company. Then Jennifer glanced at her watch and frowned. "Dang, Dad's gonna come home in a few to pick me up and take me to Grandma's for the night. I gotta get inside and get my suitcase."

"Okay. I'll call you tonight. 555-4823?"

"You bet. I'd better hear from you. You haven't got any excuses this time. In the most literal sense, buddy." She patted his face playfully. 

Marty smiled and kissed her again. "I'll make sure I won't miss it again. See you later, Jennifer." He got up as she entered the house and started for his car.

Suddenly, what looked like Doc's van pulled up next to him on the curb. Marty blinked as the passenger's side window was rolled down, revealing a nervous-looking Doc. "Doc? Whatcha doing here?"

Doc gave him a worried glance. "Get in the car, Marty. One of my recent experiments has developed a flaw and I require your assistance."

Marty got worried too. "Is it anything major?" he asked, getting into the van. He saw Jennifer at her window and waved goodbye. She waved back as the van pulled away.

"I'm not sure. It's still in the minor stages, but it could get potentially more serious."

Marty couldn't help but think Doc's words seemed forced somehow. Like he was reciting them from a script. "Doc, you okay? You sound kinda funny."

Doc glanced at him again. "I'm just nervous, that's all kid. Hopefully you can assist me."

"Glad to do whatever I can to help out my best friend," Marty smiled. "What happen, anyway? Did something happen with the electricity rerouter?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, this is different. A new project I just started. I'll explain more when we get there."

Marty looked at Doc, confused. Doc usually told him all he needed to know _before_ he got to the experiment, DeLorean aside. And there was still that script-like quality to his words. But Doc needed his help, and he wasn't going to let him down.

They drove out to the outskirts of Hill Valley. An old warehouse was there, one that nobody had used in a while. Marty looked at it, then at Doc. "The warehouse, Doc? What happened to the lab?"

"This was rather delicate for the lab," Doc replied, being maddeningly vague. "Get inside as quickly as you can, Marty. You'll need to see it to believe it."

Wondering what the heck was going on, Marty raced into the warehouse. Doc followed, taking out a heavy padlock and some keys. He closed the doors behind them and started locking them.

Marty looked around the place. It seemed empty, except for some weird-looking machines in the corner. He turned to face Doc's back. "Doc, what the hell is going on? I'm not doing anything else until I get some answers!"

Doc turned to face him. "Okay, I'll tell you what's happened. I need a guinea pig for my experiments."

"_What_ experiments?!" Marty demanded. "There's nothing here! Why are you acting like this, Doc?!?"

In response, Doc simply smiled. Marty suddenly knew that the man in front of him _wasn't_Doc at all. Doc didn't have a smile that made his flesh crawl. "D-Doc?" he whispered, backing away.

"Doc?" 'Doc' said, the snake smile still in place, his voice suddenly smooth and cool. He leaned down and slapped Marty's face. "You will address me as 'Dr. Brown'. I'm not 'Doc'." He said the nickname with utter disgust.

"Who are you?" Marty whispered, his face stinging from the blow. "I mean, you look just like him. . . ."

Dr. Brown frowned, his face looking like a gargoyle's. "That's the problem with being a twin. I'm his brother. Jack Merridew Brown."

"I don't believe you," Marty growled defiantly. "You may look like Doc, but there's no way you can be his brother."

Jack slapped him viciously. "Believe it, Martin. There was no other reason to pluck you off the street. You're going to be my instrument of torture for him." Smiling, he took Marty's arm and twisted it. "Say 'uncle'."

Marty bit his lip, fighting the pain. Jack twisted harder, still smiling. "If you don't say it soon, I'll break your arm."

Marty gave in. "Uncle!"

Jack let go and promptly shoved Marty to the ground. "Pathetic. You remind me of Emmett at your age."

"What the hell do you want me for?" Marty asked, rubbing his arm. "And how the hell do you look just like Doc?"

Jack yanked him roughly off the floor. "My dear Emmett has lived in peace for too long. I miss when we were boys and I could easily just hit or punch him. But I'm too clever to torture him directly. No, Martin, I'll torture you instead, use you for my personal amusement. Then, when you've outlived your usefulness, I'll dump you somewhere for him to find. I know you two are best friends. Knowing you're lost somewhere will be the best torture until you're ready to die. And the best part is-" Jack began to laugh, a spine-chilling sound. "Everyone will think he did it. Being a twin has its advantages. All I need was to hang around here for a few days, give myself a trim to copy his hairstyle and buy some of these ridiculous shirts-" he looked down at the shirt in disgust "-and get you to come to me. It was the perfect plan to get back at him." He chuckled evilly.

Marty's temper kicked in. "Go to hell, you monster!" He kicked Jack in the leg and made a break for the doors. Finding them securely locked, he searched for a window.

Only to be grabbed by a furious Jack. "Don't you _dare_ do that again," he snarled, slamming his fist into Marty's solar plexus. The teen fell to the floor, gasping for air. Jack delivered a second kick to the stomach, making Marty curl up in pain. "It'll be the worse for you the more you fight back, you piece of shit." He dragged the helpless kid over to a set of chains he had installed into the wall. He locked Marty into them roughly. Marty weakly pulled on one and yelped. "Of course, the insides of those are burred, so I wouldn't recommend moving too often." Jack smiled at his captive. "Pathetic. You were so easy to trick. Must be a mental incompetent." He glanced at his single watch. "I've got a little work to do, then we'll get down to business." He kicked Marty one last time. "Well, enjoy yourself." He left, laughing that spine-chilling laugh. Marty struggled in his bonds for a moment, then went limp. Against his will, he began to cry.


	3. Dreams

Chapter 3

Wednesday, April 16th

6: 00 P. M.

"Emmett, is that the door?" Emily said, looking up from the blueprints he had been showing her.

Doc looked up too. Sure enough, someone was knocking. "I'm very popular this week," he commented wryly, getting up. He answered the door, only to find the police standing there. "Hello, officers. Is there a problem?"

"Officers? Is it the police?" Emily asked, getting up herself.

"Evening, Dr. Brown," one said genially, tipping his cap. "We just wanted to ask you a few questions and take a look around the place."

"This doesn't have to do with the Lybian terrorists, does it?" Doc asked, opening the door wider so the officers could get in. 

"No, this has to do with a missing person." The police officer nodded to Emily while his silent partners looked around. "Evening ma'am."

"Hello," Emily said nervously. "Emmett, what's this about?"

"I was just about to ask that," Doc told her, facing the policeman. "This is my sister, Emily. Now, what's this all about?"

"Have you seen Marty McFly recently?"

"Yesterday. He was helping me with an amplifier electricity rerouter. But I didn't see him at all today."

"He's been missing since early this afternoon. A Miss Jennifer Parker reported seeing you pick him up in your van. His parents asked us to make some preliminary inquiries before it officially became a missing persons case. Are you sure Marty hasn't been over here today?"

"Positive, my sister will support me on all of this," Doc nodded. "And you're welcome to search the house. Marty isn't here, nor did I contact him today. Jennifer must have seen a van _like_ mine."

"It's possible, but why would Marty get into it if it wasn't you?"

Doc shrugged. "Sometimes that boy does rash things. Maybe it was someone he knew with a van like mine." He shrugged again and sighed. "I'm sorry I can't help more. If I learn of anything, I'll be sure to inform you."

The partners came back from their informal search, shaking their heads. "No sign of the boy, Joe," one said.

"Okay, Kyle. I doubted he'd be here." He nodded to Doc and Emily. "We'll keep you informed."

"So will-"

Doc's words were abruptly cut off by his sudden gasp for air. He fell to his knees, holding his stomach in pain. Immediately Emily was by his side. "Emmett! Emmett, are you all right?!"

Doc couldn't reply for a second. It felt distinctly to him he had been kicked, twice, in the stomach, as hard as possible. For a moment, he didn't feel like himself at all. It was like he was somewhere else, somewhere he had to get out of right away. Then the feeling vanished, and he relaxed, the pain fading slowly. "Yes. Stomach cramps, I guess."

"That didn't look like stomach cramps," Emily said, patting his back.

"To tell the truth, they didn't feel like them either. It felt like I was being _kicked_." He shook his head and slowly got to his feet. "Strange, very strange."

"Are you sure you're all right, Emmett?" 

"Yes, I feel much better now." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The officers looked on, politely concerned. "I'm all right. Thank you for informing me of the situation."

"Of course, Dr. Brown." Joe tipped his hat and led the officers back to their cars. Doc closed the door and leaned against it. Emily stayed by his side, nervously fussing over him. "Emily, I'm sure it was just an adverse reaction to something I ate. You don't need to mother me."

"I'm just worried, Emmett. After all, you've always been just this side of delicate."

Doc opened his mouth to protest, but was suddenly hit by another spasm of pain. He didn't fall over this time, but he came close. Once again his mind snapped into that mindset of being in a very dangerous place. "_I gotta get out of here, I gotta get out of here. . . ._"

Then it was gone again, as quickly as it had come. Doc stared down at his stomach in confusion. "What in the name of Sir Issac H. Newton have they been serving me at that Burger King?"

Emily took him by the shoulders and steered him to his cot. "I don't know, but I want you to sleep it off. I won't have my brother sick."

Doc rolled his eyes. His older sister had always been like this, babying him. There was nothing he could do except go along with her. Besides, maybe she was right. Maybe a quick nap would make a world of difference. He allowed her to sit him on the cot. "All right, Emmy. Hopefully you're right and these spasms will pass naturally." 

"I'm the older sister. I'm always right," she informed him. "Now get some rest. I know your propensity for all-nighters." She watched as he lay down and shut his eyes. After making sure he had really gone to sleep, she went to watch some TV, hoping the spasms had been mere flukes and not something more serious.

Wednesday, April 16th

6: 10 P. M.

_Doc wasn't sure how he had ended up here, but he had. He looked around the room he currently found himself in. It was very dark, poorly lit by small windows. Instruments of what seemed to be torture were tucked away in corners, barely visible. The stench of chemicals like ammonia made his eyes water. On the side wall, he could just make out chains bolted in. _

_A scraping noise caught his attention. He turned to see a section of the room lit up by the glow of a single lightbulb. The light was centered on a dull metal table with wheels attached. Tough metal clamps held a subject in place for some sort of procedure. Doc gasped when he saw who it was. "Marty!"_

_It was indeed his young friend. He was thin and pale now, his exposed skin bruised and cut. His clothes were ragged and torn, and spotted with blood. Every time he made the slightest movement, he would wince. He weakly pulled at his hands and let out a cry of pain. Doc watched as he glanced at the presence beside him and pulled harder. Straining his eyes, Doc could see what looked like blood flow from under the restraints. Furious at what had happened to his friend, Doc marched over to help him - but smacked into an invisible wall before he could reach Marty. He tried to get through it, but it remained firm and solid. Frustrated, he yelled. "Marty! Marty, can you hear me?"_

_Marty gave no indication he had heard his friend. Doc tried again to break through the wall. He only succeeded in hurting his arm. He looked over at the other presence, beside his friend. He could see him or her sharpening what looked to be a knife._

_Doc was getting badly confused. Who was this person, and what were they doing with Marty? "What the hell is going on? Who are you?" he called, desperate for a response. _

_The other presence seemed to look up and smile. Despite the fact his/her face was still hidden, Doc suddenly knew this person was evil. He backed away from the invisible wall, feeling cold. "_I'm glad I'm not with-_"_

_Doc threw himself back against the wall, eyes wide with horror. Marty was still in there! "Damn it, let me through!" he yelled furiously. "He's going to hurt my best friend! I can't just stand here and watch! I have to help him!"_

_The wall refused to budge. Doc stared, transfixed by terror, as the person finished the sharpening job. He/she moved in front of Marty, staying maddeningly in shadow the whole time. Doc's breath came in quicker bursts. "No. No, please, don't do it. Don't do it!"_

_Marty had already fainted. The presence raised the knife, then plunged it into Marty's throat. Doc screamed-_

And felt himself being shaken. "Emmett! Emmett, wake up! Wake up!"

Doc tried to squirm out of the grip of the new stranger. "Let me go! Damn it, Marty!"

"Emmett, you're having a nightmare! Wake up! It's me, it's Emily!"

Doc's eyes snapped open. His sister was standing over him, shaking him. He was breathing hard, still chilled by the horror he had just seen. "Emmy?" he whispered, not quite out of the nightmare's grip.

"Yes, Emmett, it's me." She brushed his sweaty hair back from his face. "Are you all right? You were screaming, and I was so worried. . . ."

Doc attempted to relax, filling his lungs with air. "I had a horrible nightmare. . . . It was terrible. . . ."

"Well, you're safe and sound now, Emmett. It was only a nightmare."

Doc shook his head. "It felt so _real_. I had to watch as my best friend was murdered right in front of me. I couldn't do anything to help him. I could only _watch_." He shivered in fear and pain. "It was atrocious. Thank God it was only a nightmare."

Emily patted his head. "That officer got you all worried, huh?"

Doc sat up slowly. "Maybe. I don't know. Or maybe it was just another one of those spasms, and it disturbed my sleep cycle." He looked at Emily with a weak smile. "How long are you staying for now?"

"Until you get better," Emily said firmly. "I don't know what caused this, but I do know you'll need help if it keeps on happening like this. And if you have any more nightmares-"

"Don't worry, Emmy, I'm sure that was the only one," Doc reassured her. "I'm going to go work on that damned rerouter again. Don't worry about me. The nightmare's over now."

Little did he know that, for him, it was just beginning.


	4. Hmm This Is Odd

Chapter 4

Friday, April 18th, 1986

Hill Valley

3: 14 P. M.

Marty shivered in the darkness of Jack's warehouse. He had never been more scared in his life. Here he was, at the complete mercy of a madman with no conscience at all. Jack seemed to take supreme delight in finding new ways to make him scream. Yesterday he had used one of his strange machines on him. It had turned out Jack was a afficionado of medieval torture machines, collecting and 'improving' them. His treat had been a version of the rack, altered to cut the person as he was pulled apart. Happily, Jack had tired of his game before he had been too seriously hurt. Unlike the day before, when Jack had laid his back open with a whip he had acquired from somewhere.

Jack also like to practice a very cruel form of psychological torture. He made nasty jokes about his and Doc's relationship, hitting on every crucial nerve. His favorite subject was one Marty had heard a thousand times before: "What's a 64-year-old man doing with a 17-year-old boy?". However, Jack added his own twist by giving him rather graphic descriptions of what he felt must be going on between the teen and his brother. They made the teen want to vomit, especially given Jack's descriptive skills. He could make Marty 'see' exactly what he was talking about. He seemed to love seeing Marty break down and cry, begging him to stop saying such horrible things. Then he'd taunt him about being a weakling who needed to feel pain. Every way he could tease him, he took advantage of, from "the Doc thing" to Marty's reaction to being called chicken. The teen rarely had a moment's peace from his pain.

He tried to curl up to preserve body heat, but yelped as the burred chains reminded him that was a bad idea. He went limp instead, trying to forget where he was. He tried to imagine his family, and Jennifer, and Doc. . . .

Doc. That was the worst. Having your tormentor look just like your best friend. He couldn't imagine Doc without feeling cold and dead inside. Especially not smiling. He always ended up looking like Jack in his mind's eye. He shoved the mental images away and tried to think of something else.

Unfortunately, Jack decided to come in at that very moment. He was holding a glass of a strange, slightly opaque liquid. "Hello, Martin," he said cheerfully.

"Hello Dr. Brown," Marty muttered. He had learned that if he didn't address Jack in that manner, Jack would hurt him worse.

"I imagine you're thirsty at this morning's escapades." He was referring to having Marty stand under a hot light for 3 hours. "Here. I brought you something to drink." He knelt down in front of the teen and held out the glass.

Marty regarded it suspiciously. Jack would never do anything nice for him. It had to be a trap. "What is it?"

"Just something I had lying around the lab," Jack smiled, still holding it out. "Go on, drink it. You know it's the only liquid you're likely to get today."

Marty shook his head, holding his mouth closed. He'd rather be thirsty than submit to him. Jack was unfazed. He simply reached out and pinched Marty's nose until he was forced to open his mouth to breathe, then tipped the contents of the glass in.

The teen found that whatever the stuff had been, it was quite effective in causing him agony. His throat abruptly seized up, and he doubled over in pain. He twisted and tore violently in his fetters, scraping his wrists raw, his eyes bulging. His attempts to swallow and breathe failed utterly, due to a bubble of air caught deep in his throat. As his body became oxygen-starved, the shapes and colors he saw began to blur and run together. "_I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. . . ._"

Finally, when his struggles began to weaken, Jack slapped him on the back a few times. Marty coughed, burped, and passed out. The last thing he heard was Jack cooing, "There, that wasn't so bad."

_At the same time. . . ._

"How are you holding up, George?" Emily asked gently, giving him some coffee. 

"Just barely," George McFly admitted, nodding his thanks. "I can barely sleep at night, knowing my youngest son is somewhere out there. It's terrible. I know the police are doing all they can, but sometimes I just want to scream at them for not finding him." He looked at Doc, who looked just as exhausted as he did. "It looks like it's been taking a pretty bad toll on you too, Doc Brown."

Doc sighed. "I can't sleep at night. At all. I keep having terrible nightmares about what could be happening to him."

Lorraine sniffled. "My poor baby. . . . Oh, I hope he's all right, where ever he is. I wish the kidnappers would call us with the ransom. No sum is too big for my little Marty."

"He seems like a very nice boy," Emily nodded sadly, sitting down with the group. "The kind who would easily make friends. Why would someone want to kidnap him?"

"Because they know I'm his father," George replied, sounding disgusted with himself. "Any intelligent criminal knows I make plenty of money from my stories and books. They could expect a very extravagant ransom." He sipped his coffee, his hands shaking a little. "Damn it, why won't they call? I'll pay anything to get my kid back. Anything."

Doc was about to say something when his throat abruptly closed up. A wave of intense, horrible pain washed over him, making him collapse on the floor. He thrashed and beat the floor, trying in desperation to breathe. Emily leapt to her feet in horror. "Emmett! Oh, god, not again!"

"Doc! Good God, what's wrong with him!?" Lorraine gasped, joining Emily by his side.

"I don't know," Emily cried, feeling completely helpless. "It started the same day Marty was kidnaped. He has these strange - fits. One moment, he'll be completely fine, the next writhing on the floor in agony. I can't help him either, he just screams at me to leave him alone. It's like he thinks I'm the one hurting him. I don't understand it. I just don't understand it."

Doc suddenly burped and lay still on the floor. Off in the distance, he thought he heard a voice coo wickedly, "There, that wasn't so bad."

"Go to hell, you bastard," Doc whispered, not really aware of what he was saying. There was a final spasm of pain. Then his mind was his own again. He rolled over a little to see everyone looking at him concernedly. "It happened again," he said flatly. 

"Are you all right, Doc?" George asked, standing over him. 

"Yes, the pain fades rapidly from these episodes." He slowly got to his feet, holding his stomach. "I don't understand it. There is nothing in my physiology to imply that I would be subject to sudden and unknown seizures. They don't even _feel_ like proper seizures. They feel like I'm being tortured."

Emily shook her head. "Emmett, you need help."

Doc groaned. "Emily, not again! We talked about this yesterday! I am _not_ seeing a psychiatrist!"

"Why not?" Emily snapped. "You said yourself that you're perfectly healthy! There's no reason for you to be having seizures if you're healthy! Therefore, they have to be caused by your mind somehow."

"How?" Doc demanded. "The most strenuous mental task I've done lately is worry about Marty! I don't have the energy to do anything else. And besides, if I go to see a shrink, it will simply reinforce my image in the community! True, often I don't care what those toads-" the McFlys looked at each other in surprise. "-think of me, but I prefer not to take measures to make them gossip all the more about me!"

"Screw them! You need professional help! And I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

"Oh yes you are! Yesterday you said this same thing, that I was going crazy! I'm _not_crazy! Damn it, can't I be worried about the fate of my best friend without everyone making a big deal over it!"

"It isn't that! It's these horrible seizures! And these nightmares! Honestly Emmett, you have to be the most pigheaded human being on the planet! Whether I get your permission or not, I'm calling a doctor, and you _will_ see him!"

Doc glared at her, then sighed. "You always had to be right," he grumbled, dropping into a chair. "Fine. Call my doctor. He's got training in psychology. Dr. James Caldwell. And he'll be willing to come here too."

Emily picked up the phone. "Jesus, Emmett," she muttered, shaking her head, " you have so much trouble accepting help sometimes. I - Emmett?"

Doc had suddenly gone very limp in his chair. He looked like he was trying to keep from crying. "I'm sorry, Emmy," he said softly. "I'm usually not this belligerent. You're right. I think those seizures might be caused by my worrying. I don't know how, but they could. It's the sleep deprivation talking, not me. Get my doctor. Maybe he can at least prescribe some sleeping pills for me so I won't have nightmares." He looked at the McFlys, embarrassed. "And I'm sorry for making a scene in front of you."

"It's all right," Lorraine said, sitting beside him. "If you ever need anyone to talk to, we're right here. After all, we're all in the same boat."

"Thank you," Doc smiled weakly.

Emily returned to the group, patting her brother on the shoulder. "He's on his way, Emmett. And it's all right. I know you're not like Jack."

"Jack?" George asked, curious. "Who's Jack? An old classmate? A colleague?"

Doc shook his head, shuddering. "My brother. The worst monster humankind has ever known."

"Now, Emmett, that's rather harsh," Emily gently scolded. "The fact that Jack was a manipulative bully I won't deny, but a monster? Emmett, he's your twin!"

The McFlys looked at each other in shock. "A twin brother? Why didn't you ever tell us?"

"Bad memories," Doc confessed. "Jack is the ultimate cliche of the 'evil twin'. He lives for torturing others and causing others pain. When we were children, my father's animals and myself were his favorite targets. He was fascinated by the tortures of the Inquisition. He built a rack for a history project!"

"He was a little odd," Emily admitted. "He was able to charm everyone and anyone into liking him, then bully them unmercifully. I'd stop short at 'evil twin'."

"I wouldn't," Doc grumbled darkly. "You were never hurt by him. He usually just beat me up, but sometimes he'd have more - interesting thoughts." He looked around his home. "Thank God for this garage. If it hadn't been here, I might not be here today. It was my escape from everything. Who knows how I might have turned out if I hadn't been able to come here." He looked at his company. "I'm not really comfortable talking about him and his ways. That's why you never knew."

They talked about other subjects for a while until there was a knock at the door, signaling Dr. Caldwell's arrival. Emily answered the door, leaving Doc to rest. Dr. Caldwell came in, looking very concerned. "Hello Dr. Brown, Mrs. Smyth, Mr. and Mrs. McFly," he said, shaking hands with George. "I'm very sorry about your son. Any news?"

"None so far," George said, sitting back down. 

Dr. Caldwell nodded and looked at Doc. He shook his head. "You look exhausted."

"I _feel_ exhausted," Doc said. "I haven't been sleeping well since this whole mess started. I keep having nightmares."

"How much sleep are you getting?"

Doc shrugged. "Estimation tells me around 2-3 hours a night. I can't sleep for more than 30 minutes without having a nightmare. Correction: without having _the_ nightmare."

"_The_ nightmare?" Dr. Caldwell asked, sitting down beside him.

"One that keeps repeating over and over again every time I lie down," Doc grumbled. "I'm - excuse me, is it all right if we discuss this in private? It involves Marty, and I don't want to disturb the McFlys any more than they already are."

"Of course, Dr. Brown." Dr. Caldwell and Doc headed for the one truly private place in the garage - Doc's bathroom. Doc sat down on the toilet and continued his narrative. "I'm in a room, filled with torture equipment. I see Marty on a table, restrained by clamps on his wrists and ankles." Doc shuddered. "He looks absolutely horrible. Suffering from multiple lacerations and bruising all over. He tries to get up, but can't - the restraints keep him down. I think they may be burred on the inside - if he pulls on his arms too hard, they bleed. 

"Then I hear this sharp scraping sound, and turn to see someone, in shadow, sharpening a knife. I get the feeling that he/she is evil and going to harm Marty. I try to rescue him, but there's an invisible wall blocking me. I can't get to him, no matter how hard I try. I can only watch as the other person plunges the knife into his throat. . . ."

Doc began to cry. Dr. Caldwell looked at him in surprise for a moment. He knew how self-controlled Doc usually was. It took a big emotional shock to make him shed tears. He waited patiently, offering a little support to the scientist.

Doc finally got it out of his system. "Sorry," he apologized.

"There's no need to be sorry, Dr. Brown," Dr. Caldwell said. "If I was having nightmares like that, I'd cry too. Do you have any ideas on what could be causing these nightmares?"

"Worry is my main suspect," Doc said, slumping back in the chair. "I can't help it. Marty is my best friend. We're very close. George often remarks sarcastically I'm practically his father."

"How about those fits your sister mentioned over the phone?"

"Those are unpredictable. It's like one moment, I'm simply going about my business, the next, I'm suffering torture. I don't feel like myself during those moments. It feels like I'm in someone's else's life. The pain fades quickly after each seizure, however."

"Hmm." Dr. Caldwell performed a brief checkup. "You seem to be in good health except for sleep deprivation. I'll write you a prescription for some sleeping pills."

"Thank you." Doc waited as he scribbled down the info for the druggist and tore it off his pad. "What about the seizures?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you there. Just make sure you're never on a hard floor, falling down on one might hurt you."

Doc weakly smiled. "Thanks for the help. Do you think that I should see a formal psychiatrist?"

"Maybe. I'd think about it at least." Dr. Caldwell patted him on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Dr. Brown."

"I'll try." They rejoined the group, Doc desperately hoping the pills would work. He couldn't take another night of nightmares. Not when he was living one.

_Meanwhile. . . . _

Marty regained consciousness after a half-hour. For a moment, he thought he heard people talking around him, trying to comfort him. Then the voices faded into a dreamland. 

Jack came back in, grinning evilly. "Ah, we're awake now, hmm? Did you like your little drink?"

Marty just glared at him defiantly. He had learned the first day answering that sort of question earned you more abuse. Jack sniggered. "Of course, that's not all I had planned for today." He walked over to a wooden frame and dragged it over. "However, circumstances make it so I can't torture you in person. You understand." He snapped open the stock, then undid Marty's chains. Marty, in desperation, tried to hit him, but fell over inside. Jack laughed. "Still feisty! I like it."

He yanked Marty to his feet and locked him into the pillory. As usual, it had certain Jackified touches. The insides of the holes were burred, as usual. And instead of being attached to just a normal piece of wood, it was attached to an old treadmill. Smiling, Jack turned it on high and made Marty run on it. "I'll be back in an hour." He left, leaving Marty to jog in place while constricted. Marty cursed his idiocy for thinking that guy had been Doc.

In a half-hour, his legs got too tired to run. Marty gave up and let the tread scrape them. It didn't matter anymore. He wasn't getting out of this place alive. With a sigh, he prayed for the time when he'd get to get some sleep. He hoped he didn't have any nightmares. It was bad enough he was living one.


	5. A Peek Inside A Twisted Mind

Chapter 5

Saturday, April 19th, 1986

Hill Valley

4:40 A. M.

Jack smiled cruelly at his young captive, currently hanging from the ceiling suspended by his wrists, surrounded by a simple wooden cage. _Well, Jack, you have finally outdone yourself,_ he thought, watching as Marty tried desperately to free himself. Of course, all his efforts simply caused him more pain, as Jack had not only burred the insides of his shackles, but spiked the walls of the cage. Every time Marty moved, he got spiked. The scientist (yes, he had a doctorate) gave a shudder of delight as he saw the teen torn to pieces, and was very upset when he gave up and just hung there. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, advancing.

Marty looked up at him. Tears were running freely down the kid's face, he was pleased to see. It had taken a while to get the teen to cry in front of him, but it had been worth it. "Please, Dr. Brown," he begged, all his dignity gone. "Leave me alone. Just for ten minutes. Leave me alone. Or just kill me already and be done with it."

Jack gave him that evil smile. "Martin, as long as you live under my roof, you--"

"You call this _living_? Please, I'll do anything. . . ."

"Call Emmett a--" Jack paused to find just the right phrase. Finding an especially dirty one, he whispered it into Marty's ear.

The kid glared at him. "Never. You fing piece of shit."

Jack slapped him hard, sending him swinging into the spikes. He chuckled as Marty screamed. "Well, my dear Martin?"

Marty looked at him. Jack raised his hand for another hit. Marty cringed but took the blow. "Go ahead, hit me again. I won't say it."

Jack gladly did so, ripping Marty's back and sides up. Finally Marty whimpered out the phrase, sobbing violently. Jack stopped hitting him, a little disappointed. He had hoped Marty would hold out longer. Well, he could always punish him later with a new device. "Two minutes, but I had better see you squirming a little."

Marty nodded and obediently started scraping his wrists. Jack stepped back and watched the broken teen. "Why are you like this?" he whispered, tears still streaming from his eyes.

Jack overheard his question. "Why? Do you really want to know, little Martin?" Marty jerked with surprise, but nodded. "It's simple. I was born this way." He smirked. "Literally. One of my mother's favorite stories about my birth was how, at just two days old, I yanked on her hair and burst out laughing as she yelled." He laughed, making Marty shiver. "Oh, if only I could remember that. My first taste of pleasure."

Marty remained silent, but Jack could see in his eyes he thought Jack was insane. "You don't understand, do you. No one does. That's because none of you are as evolved as I am. Compared to me, you're all insects. Just simple little entities for me designed for my entertainment." He slapped Marty's face, just for the hell of it. "Things I can play with for a little while, then squash. I'm sure you've never cared about a bug's feelings. So why should I care about yours?"

Marty moaned. "Jesus. How did I ever mistake you for Doc?"

"Well, besides the obvious fact you're a complete idiot, I have my acting talents. I can be charming, even--" he grimaced and spat out the word "-- _loveable_, if I need to. Everyone loved me when I was a child. Mother and Father doted on me endlessly. I had dozens of friends, all willing to take my abuse and come back for more." He smiled. "All the better to torture Emmett." He leaned close to Marty. "I _hate_ that fucking piece of shit. I hate him. He doesn't deserve anything. Friends, family -- nothing. People like you, you're just to keep me happy. To allow me to have my pleasure. But him -- God, I'd keep him screaming for the rest of his miserable life if I could."

"Why?" Despite himself, Marty looked interested in what Jack had to say.

"Because he dared to be better than I was!" Jack roared, slamming Marty back into the spikes. "NO ONE can be better than me! No one IS better than me! I am perfect! I am the pinnacle of humanity! Yet he dared to surpass my talents!" He turned and stalked away, seething with rage. "At home, all was well. He knew his place there. I was the loved one, the smiling twin. He was the weird kid who sat in the garage and read all day. Everyone could remind him he was inferior. Especially me, when we were alone." A pleasant shiver went up his spine as he recalled the afternoons they had spent together. "I'll give Emmett credit for one thing. He was a superb screamer. That's my favorite part of the process, you know. The screaming. It's the best drug in existence. And no one was better than him at it." He turned back and winked at Marty. "Although you come damn close, Martin. You should be proud of that." Marty just shuddered. Jack's body tensed with rage again. "But, at school. . . . How dare he be smarter than me. How dare he." He smashed a bottle of cleaner against the floor. "Advanced four grades!" He slammed the door into the room. "Received every academic award possible!" He kicked Marty's cage. "Earned himself _national attention_ for his genius!" He stopped the cage, grabbed Marty, and pulled him close. "Do you know what his I.Q. is? Over _200_. He has no right being that smart. Absolutely no right. _I_am the perfect one. Me. He's the freak. The weirdo. I should have gotten that attention. I should have gotten those awards. I should have been the smart one." A truly sick smile twisted his lips. "But I made him pay. Did I _ever_ make him pay. Whenever we were alone, he never stopped screaming."

He released Marty and walked away again, almost casually. "I thought the lesson had sunk in by the time I moved out. I thought he had understood what a useless piece of shit he was. But then, years later -- I see this." He pulled a newspaper clipping out of his pocket. It was yellowed and faded, but Marty could see that it was from an article about Doc winning his NSF award, and showed a picture of him and Doc together. "Not only is he winning _more_ awards, he has you. A _friend._ He doesn't deserve friends, he knows that. Yet, for some reason, he thought it was okay to have you." He snorted. "You think someone as smart as him would know the consequences of befriending someone, after I punished him so severely." His smile came back. "Oh well. At least I get to have the pleasure of torturing you for my revenge."

"You'll never be as good as Doc," Marty hissed. "Never."

Jack punched him. "Why would I want to be as good as him? He's a bug, just like you. Just like the six people I killed in San Francisco, and like the six I killed in Los Angeles. All pathetic little bugs, who deserved what they got." He closed his eyes, remembering the screams, the blood, the squirming. . . . _Oh yes, yes,_he thought giddily. Even if they were mere bugs, they could provide him with some quite _wonderful_ forms of satisfaction. He wondered if he needed a moment alone to cool himself off.

No. He could always pleasure himself later. Right now, his revenge on Emmett was the important thing. Besides, Martin's dedication to Emmett was providing some excellent entertainment. It was a pity he would have to kill him in a few days. He could think of some wonderful tortures that wouldn't make the cut. _Maybe I should substitute the iron maiden for one, I so wanted to do that one. . . ._

He returned to reality as he realized Marty was just hanging there. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He unhooked the chains, watching Marty slump to the ground. "Get up. I think we need a few minutes on the rack. Or maybe in the iron maiden?"

Marty looked up, confused. "What's an iron maiden?" he whispered.

"You'll find out." Eagerly, Jack forced Marty over to the spiked "coffin." Yes, life didn't get much better than this.


	6. The Rescue

Chapter 6

Monday, April 21st, 1986

Hill Valley

3: 47 A. M.

"Screw it," Doc mumbled, climbing out of bed. "It's hopeless. I might as well do something productive with my time instead of trying to get to sleep. My brain just refuses to produce the right chemicals." Sighing, he stood up and headed for the kitchen table. He wasn't sure what he would do, but it would be preferable to tossing and turning.

He collapsed into a chair and put his head on his arms. He felt like shit. The sleeping pills Dr. Caldwell had prescribed for him weren't working at all, and neither was the sleep-inducer. No matter what he tried, that damn nightmare kept plaguing him. _Why?_ he wondered, a few tears trickling down his nose. _Why me and why now? Am I going insane? Maybe I am. I can't find any rational explanation for my behavior. This dream possibly relates to the fact Marty's been kidnaped, but why is it so violent? Why would I dream of my best friend -- being coldly and ruthlessly murdered? And, of course, those fits haven't abated at all. Instead they've become worse. It's like I'm being tortured by someone and I can't fight back. I'm totally helpless whenever one of them comes over me. I don't even _feel_ like myself. It's as if I'm trapped in someone else's life. Damn it, I just want it all to stop. I want it all to stop. Why me, why --_

_-- me? Why the hell did he have to choose me? Damn it, I wish I could do something, anything, _Marty thought as he watched Jack ready a table. He had been informed that he had outlived his usefulness. "And I'm actually going to miss this, Martin," Jack said as he set up the restraints. "You were my greatest conquest. There will be no one to top you." He snapped and unsnapped a restraint a few times. "I think I'll send you off with a bang. Give me a minute and I'll think of a torture suitable."

"No! No, please, Dr. Brown," Marty pleaded, a pathetic mess of cuts and bruises.

Jack strolled over and punched him in the solar plexus. "Shut up," he said pleasantly. "Just for that little outburst, two tortures." He wandered away, thinking hard. Marty closed his eyes and cried silently. _Why me? This is hell, pure and simple. Why did he have to be Doc's brother? Why? Damn it, why can't it all end? Why can't he just kill me. I want it to stop, I want it to stop--_

_I want it to stop._

Doc looked up in surprise. Just for a moment there, he thought he had heard another voice, echoing his sentiment. He looked around, but he was alone. The only other person in the house was asleep. That meant the voice had come from inside his head. _Great. I _am_ insane. I'll have to make a psychiatric appointment tomorrow. I hate psychiatrists, but I have no choice. Marty's kidnaping and these -- these -- these torments are too much for one mind to handle. If only I knew the cause!_

Marty blinked. Had he just heard someone agree with his thought? _Perfect. Now I'm hearing voices. You've finally snapped, McFly. Come on, Jack, put me out of my misery._

Doc slumped back against the chair. He thought of trying the sleep-inducer on himself again, but he had a feeling it wouldn't work. That dream would come back, no matter what he did. That horrible, horrible nightmare. . . .

_But is it really just a dream?_

Doc blinked. What a strange thought. Where had it come from? _Probably sleep deprivation,_ he decided. _I know that dreams often reflect the state of the person awake. My dreams must be reflecting some sort of. . . ._

_The fits too. Something's wrong. Those are too close to being real. It's like I'm feeling someone else's pain. Like, during those moments, I _am_ another person. _

_But it doesn't make sense! Telepathy in the non-mechanically assisted sense is impossible! And the ability to literally feel what another is feeling is even more ludicrous. The stress is impairing my thinking. Clear your head, Emmett. . . ._

_It does make sense. In some twisted way, it all makes sense. I'm being warned. Something appalling is happening to Marty, and some gut instinct is trying to get me to help him, by tormenting me with excruciating fits and nightmares about his death. It's horrible how I --_

_-- just can't get out of here. He won't kill me ever, 'cause that would be letting me go. Please, just kill me and let me go._

The twisted scientist grinned. "How interesting. I haven't tried this one before." He walked back over to Marty and pulled him roughly to his feet. Chuckling coldly, he started to unbutton his pants.

"You make me do that and I'll bite it off," Marty snarled, dredging up the last of the fight in him.

Jack glared at him. "You dare refuse me, you little piece of fag shit?" he said, grabbing him by the throat. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this." He started squeezing as hard as he could. Marty clawed at his hands, but couldn't pry them off. Jack was too strong, and he was too weak. . . . His chest started to contract from lack of air, and the world started to go blurry. 

Seeing Marty could barely move now, Jack took the opportunity to kick him where it hurt the worst. Tears trickled out of the teen's eyes as he choked harder. _Stop. . . please stop. . . I want to die, but not like this--_

Doc fell off his chair, unable to breathe, his throat feeling like it was being crushed. Frightened, he tried to choke out a cry for help, but he had no air in his lungs to do it. Even worse, a moment later he felt what amounted to a massive blow to the groin. His mouth opened in a silent scream as the world grew dark. _Damn it, speak of the devil. . . . Stop, I beg you, stop. . . . Please, I don't want to die--_

_Damn it, STOP TORTURING ME!_

Jack finally let Marty go as he was on the verge on unconsciousness. "Ah, poor little Martin," he mocked. "I thought you might be into sado-masochism."

Doc looked up, rubbing his throat. He could have sworn he heard that voice in his head, repeating him again. And now it was accompanied by a colder, more sinister one. One that raised the hair on the back of his neck. _I'm insane. Why else would I hear Jack's voice inside my head?_

Marty blinked, his throat aching. For some reason, he thought he had heard the friendly voice again. _Maybe I was dying. But that sure sounded like Doc._

Jack forced Marty onto his knees, but noticed the kid was still wavering. "Damn, you can't do a proper job now. I guess I'll have to give you a moment." He kicked Marty in the pit of the stomach and walked away, looking pissed. Marty crawled over to the corner, barely noticing the chains scraping his arms. _Let me hear Doc's voice again. Please. I just want to hear his voice again._

Doc stared off into space, shocked. Those were Marty's and Jack's voices he was hearing inside his head! Jack was torturing Marty, _killing_ Marty. And the teen was pleading to hear his voice again. Should he answer, even if it was an imaginary voice? _Marty?_

Marty looked up just the slightest. _Doc?_

_Marty, is it really you? Or am I just imagining things? No, don't answer me, I know the answer already. I must be imagining things. I have a very sick imagination._

_Doc, Doc, it's so great to hear your voice again. Especially in this hell. This bastard kidnaped me and he's been torturing me for -- damn, I don't know how long. Just a minute ago he choked me nearly to death. Why he didn't just get it over with, I don't know._

_Wait. . . . He just tried to kill you? By strangling you?_ Doc's hand was still on his throat.

_Yeah. I'm still dizzy._ Marty let his head flop back down. _Wish I could see you in my he--_

Abruptly each party received a very clear mental picture of the other. Doc gasped as he saw Marty's state. "Oh my God, it's just like my nightmares."

Marty reacted similarly as he looked at Doc, gazing off into space as he focused on the picture in his head. It looked like he, too, had just been strangled. And judging from the dark circles under his eyes, he hadn't slept in a long time._ Doc? Holy shit, is it -- the real you?_

_Yes. Great Scott, I didn't know we could communicate telepathically. Don't let this be a dream. . . ._

_Trust me, Doc, this is as far from a dream as you can get,_ Marty thought back. _This is so weird. . . . But shit, I'm so glad we can. Doc, this lunatic has got me imprisoned so he can get back at you for some twisted reason of his own. He's gonna kill me and make everyone think you did it!_

_Marty, where are you?_ Doc thought urgently, getting to his feet.

_I -- I don't really remember. . . ._

_Think, Marty. Think!_ Doc urged. _Try to remember anything you may have noticed when you were first brought there._

Marty tried, shutting his eyes tightly. _It's not coming, Doc. He's gonna come back any minute now. Doc, I'm so scared. . . ._

_Please, Marty, try to remember _anything_,_ Doc pleaded with him mentally. _I have to save you from that monster. Try your hardest._

Jack wandered back over. "What the f*** is wrong with you now?" An interested look slid over his face. "Have I driven you insane? Not like I haven't done that before." His eyes took in Marty's condition coldly and clinically. "You're all the same. Just little toys for me to play with. Just like Emmett and the animals and the vagrants. All pathetic toys."

Marty ignored him, trying his damndest to remember where he was. Jack slapped him hard. "Pay attention when I'm talking to you, you little good-for-nothing! Or are you fantasizing about your precious 'Doc'? I bet that's it. Only pleasure you can get here, huh?" He leaned down over the teen, who was still trying to ignore him. "I can even take that away." Snake smile back in place, he forced his tongue into Marty's mouth. The teen was too shocked to react at first, then just slumped down, taking it. 

Doc wanted to vomit. _This is so repugnant._ Rather automatically, he chomped down to get the invisible tongue out of his mouth.

Jack yelped and pulled away. "You _bit_ me, you little f***er!"

Marty spat out the blood. _Holy shit, I just bit him! Damn, I'm in for it now. . . ._

_Come on, Marty, think! How's the memory?_

_Still out. I -- hold on a sec. I'm starting to get something._ Marty concentrated hard as Jack went to attend to his wound. _Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's it. I think I'm in the abandoned warehouse on Johnfield Road!_

_That's on the other side of town,_ Doc thought frantically. _I'll have to move fast. I'll be there as soon as I can, Marty. Try to delay him!_

_No need, Doc,_ Marty whimpered as Jack reappeared, fire in his eyes. _He's gonna delay himself. Please, Doc, hurry!_

"Emmett?"

Doc snapped out of his trance to find Emily standing beside him. "Emmett, I think it's getting worse. I woke up to go to the bathroom, and you were standing here staring into space. You've been like this for five minutes!"

Doc looked at her, a haunted look in his eyes. "I know where Marty is, Emmy. He's being held prisoner by a maniac. I think it's Jack, I keep hearing his voice."

Emily laid a loving hand on his arm. "Oh, you poor dear. Listen, go back to bed, and I'll set up a psychiatrist's appointment for you."

Doc shook his head violently. "No. Marty's in serious danger, Emily. We have to go get him before Jack kills him. He's already been through too much." He looked at his massive collection of clocks. "We don't have much time, I don't think. Call the McFlys and tell them to get the police and meet us at the warehouse on Johnfield Road. I doubt Jack will surrender without a fight." He felt his limbs start to shake. "God, don't be another fit. I know what's happening to Marty, I don't need to feel it."

Emily took Emmett by the shoulders. "Emmett, stop it! The lack of sleep is making you hallucinate. There's no reason for Jack to be here, let alone kidnap Marty. Go back to bed."

"Emmy, _please_," he begged, tears running down his face. "I know it sounds insane, but it's the truth. At least call the McFlys and tell them it's a hunch."

"But the police already checked it out."

"Not throughly enough, then. Please, for the sake of my sanity."

"Oh, all right. But I'm also calling your doctor to see if I can get the name of a good shrink." She went over to the phone, shaking her head as dialed. "My poor brother. . .hello, George. It's Emily. I'm sorry for calling in the middle of the night, but it's rather important. No, not news on Marty. It's Emmett. I think he's finally snapped. I just found him staring off into space, and he just said the craziest things to me--"

She suddenly heard the unmistakable grumble of the van's engine. She dropped the phone and ran out to the garage -- only to see the van pull away. She dashed back to the phone, taking note that the closet was open and a few clothes had been yanked out. "George, he just took the van! I think he's going to act on his delusions! And in his condition, he _definitely _shouldn't be driving! Call the police and meet me on Johnfield Road at the abandoned warehouse, that's where he said Marty was. And hurry!"

Monday, April 21st

4: 00 A. M.

Jack dragged Marty's limp body over to the table, after ferociously beating him. It was a crude form of punishment, but it worked. Marty was gritting his teeth in pain due to a dislocated shoulder as Jack dragged him over. "What's the matter, pet? Don't like it? Tough. I'm going to make this the most torturous experience you've ever had." He forced Marty onto the table and clamped him down. He slammed him in the stomach a few times, then pulled out a knife and ran the tip over any exposed flesh, drawing thin red lines on the skin. He glanced down at the blade. "Damn. Too dull to cause any real pain. I'm sure you can wait a moment." He walked over into the dark part of the room and began sharpening his knife.

Marty lay limp, then managed a weak pull on his restraints. He cried out in pain as he realized these were burred as well. He glanced back at Jack, then pulled harder. This simply had the effect of making his wrists bleed. Finally he gave up and lay there. _I don't give a shit anymore. Just let me die. Just let me die._

Jack looked up and smiled at Marty. This was going to be sweet. He would slash open the boy's throat and watch as his life drained out of him. _My entire career has led up to this. I may as well make the most of it._ He made sure the knife was sharp, then started towards Marty. The teen was perilously close to fainting. Jack raised the knife as the teen lost consciousness.

Only to feel someone grab his arm.

He twisted out of the someone's grip and spun to face him. His eyes went wide when he saw the person's face. "Emmett! How the hell did you know I was here?"

Doc glared into his brother's face, his body running on pure adrenaline. "You monster," he snarled, moving towards his brother. "You demon. How could you do that to a teenager? To someone who should have never met you?"

Jack glared back. He was this close to victory, and he wasn't about to give up now. "You know why. You don't deserve friends. You don't deserve anything. Except a cold and lonely life and a similar death. And, trust me _dear brother_, that can be easily arranged." He lunged with the knife. Doc dodged and slammed his knee into Jack's stomach. Yelling, he tried again to stab Doc. Doc managed to avoid it, but Jack quickly slugged him in the jaw. Soon the twins were entangled in a fight to the death, kicking, biting, slashing, and hitting.

The noise woke Marty. _I didn't know death was this noisy,_ he thought, opening his eyes. He weakly turned his head to the source -- and gave a small gasp. Doc had gotten here in time! He had never seen such a desperate fight. But who was who? They looked so alike. . . .

Outside, Emily pulled up in her car and jumped out. She dashed into the warehouse, frantically calling, "Emmett? Emmett!?"

To her surprise, the warehouse was empty. Yet she could hear quite a lot of noise from _somewhere_. . . . "Emmett? Where are you?"

Then she saw it. There was an almost invisible trap door leading to a lower level. The place had been abandoned for so long, nobody had known a basement had existed. She managed to open it with a little effort and headed downstairs. The door at the bottom was half-open, so instead of enter, she peeked in first.

What she saw made her certain she had stepped into a nightmare. Torture instruments littered the entire room. The only light was from a single lightbulb and a few small, thin windows that were above ground level. On a table near the lightbulb lay Marty McFly, staring at a vicious fight moving around the room. Emily went pale as she saw the 2 combatants were her twin brothers. _Who's who? When Emmett's in a rage, he can be completely indistinguishable from Jack. Damn, Emmett, why did you have to change? You'd be a lot easier to recognize in your pajamas._

Doc finally forced Jack against the wall. His brother gave him a look of total hate. "You freak of nature. NO one triumphs over me!" He swung a final time with his knife and managed to slice open Doc's shoulder. Doc, blind with rage, didn't even notice. With a strength he didn't know he had, he slammed Jack's head into the cold concrete. Jack looked dazed for a moment, then slumped to the floor, completely out of it.

Doc turned from his unconscious brother back to Marty. The teen looked at him in fear. It had to be Jack, there was no way Doc could have fought against him. "No. Please, no more," he begged as he approached. "Kill me, I'm begging you, kill me."

Doc shook his head, the anger leaving his face. Now he looked near tears. "Marty, it's okay. It's me. It's Doc."

"Can't be. You fooled me before, but you won't again. Slit open my throat, please. . . ."

"No, no Marty," Doc said in barely more than a whisper. "I'm telling the truth. I'm Doc." He very gently touched Marty's cheek and flinched as the boy winced. "I'm so sorry. . . ."

"Crocodile tears," Marty muttered. "I bet you're a master at them."

Doc looked back at him. What could he do to convince the kid? _Try smiling, you ass,_ he thought. _Jack could never copy that. His smiles always look demented._ He forced himself to remember that he had just saved his friend's life, and a weak smile came to his lips.

Marty's eyes widened. That was definitely a trademark Doc grin. "Doc?" he whispered, barely believing it. The scientist nodded. "Doc! Oh, shit, am I -- ow!" He had tried to get up while still held down by the restraints.

Doc frowned. "Where's the keys? Do you know?" he asked gently.

"He keeps them in his pocket." He looked fearfully over at Jack, as if expecting him to get up and slaughter the both of them.

"I'll get them." Both men jerked at the sounds of Emily's voice. She was pale and shaking. "I can't believe this. It's like some nightmare."

_Nightmare. . . ._

Doc slumped against the table. _It was just like my nightmare. All of it. The only difference was that I was able to stop it. Great Scott, thank God I was. . . ._

Emily came back and unlocked the restraints. As he was allowed freedom of movement, Marty immediately threw himself into Doc's arms, sobbing. "Doc. You won't believe what he did to me. . . Made me say things, nearly killed me a couple of times. . . I wanted him to by the end."

"Shh, shh," Doc said, rocking him gently, completely ignoring his own condition. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone else hurt you."

"Don't let go," Marty whimpered, burying his face into Doc's chest.

"I won't." He felt Marty's dislocated shoulder. "When did the bastard do that?"

"Just a few minutes ago. He beat me up for biting him and ruining his-" Marty choked on the word. "Enjoyment."

Doc tenderly patted Marty's hair. _This is horrible. My best friend has this done to him, all because of me. . . He'll never be able to look at my face again, without thinking of _him._ Well, Jack, looks like you succeeded in your objective._

Marty shook his head. "You saved me," he mumbled into Doc's shirt. "You saved my life. I just think it's shitty luck you guys were twins."

Doc blinked. "Marty, I didn't say anything."

Marty looked up. "But I -- heard you," he ended softly, realizing what must have happened. "Weird."

There was noise from upstairs as George, Lorraine, and the police burst into the room. "Emily? Emily, where are you?" George yelled.

"Down here! There's a secret downstairs!" She looked back at the room. "Wait for us though, you don't want to see what's down here."

Doc very carefully shifted Marty into his arms. The teen clung to him with his one usable arm. _This is all my fault. This never would have happened if--_

_Doc, don't think like that,_ Marty thought back, wincing slightly as Doc touched a tender spot. _How the hell could you have known? It's all my fault for thinking he was you. If I'd actually had some common sense, this whole mess--_

_No, Marty, blaming this on ourselves won't solve anything, or wipe away this incident. Let's return you to your family._ He followed Emily up the steps. _By the way, was that a padlock I saw in the corner?_

_Yeah, Jack locked the door with that before transferring me down here._

Lorraine turned dead white the minute she saw her son. "_MARTY_!" she shrieked. "Oh, God, what happened to you?"

"The sickest man on the planet," Emily said, shivering again. "He's downstairs, unconscious. Emmett knocked him out."

Doc smiled a little for the officers -- then the room began to spin. Everything that had happened in the past half-hour finally caught up to him, as well as a week's worth of sleep. He tried to transfer Marty to someone else, but the kid was gripping his shirt like it was a life line. He slumped against the wall, the world starting to fade out. Marty too was feeling the full extent of his exhaustion. Almost a full week of torture had left him little time for sleep. But he was too scared of being separated from his savior to let anyone else take him. He went limp in Doc's arms. _I feel dizzy,_ they both thought.

Then, both collapsed.


	7. Aftershock

Chapter 7

Tuesday, April 22nd, 1986

Hill Valley

5: 03 P. M.

Marty stirred. His whole body ached more than usual. He slowly opened his eyes to find himself in a very white room. _Am I dead? Do I want to know if I'm not?_ "Hello?" he called weakly.

A woman in a nurse's uniform poked her head into the room. "Oh, you're up," she said, making it sound like he _had_ just risen from the dead.

"Where am I?" Marty asked plaintively, trying to remember when he was brought here.

"St. Daphne's Hospital. We brought you and Dr. Brown in last night." She very carefully checked his vitals. "You poor boy. Everyone in Hill Valley knows the whole story. It's a miracle you were rescued when you were."

Marty closed his eyes, not wanting to think about that. Now that he was more awake, he could feel bandages wrapped around most of his body. His left arm seemed to be functioning again too. "How bad is it?"

"You're a very lucky boy. Both Dr. Caldwell and Dr. Conner think you'll recover, although you were very beat up, I won't lie about that. There's some injuries that could turn serious, but Dr. Caldwell is coming in to tell you about those."

The name "Dr. Caldwell" abruptly triggered Marty's memory. _Isn't that Doc's doctor? _"Shit, Doc!" he gasped, trying to sit up. "Where is he? Is he okay?" 

"Hush Marty, don't exert yourself," the nurse said gently but firmly, holding him down. "Dr. Brown's all right. He's got a nasty cut in one shoulder, but that should heal in time. As for where he is--" She drew back the curtain separating the room into two halves. Doc was passed out in the other bed, snoring slightly. "Dr. Caldwell says he's got about 36 hours to make up when it comes to sleep. I don't expect him to come to anytime soon."

Marty looked at him. Doc looked extremely peaceful, sprawled across the bed with one arm hanging off. In fact, if Marty had been in a better state of mind, he might have even used the word "cute" to describe his friend. But all Marty could think was how much he looked like Jack. Shaking, he had to turn away before he started remembering what had happened to him in that hell.

The nurse frowned. "I'm sorry, Marty. Here, I'll close it."

Marty confused her by shaking his head. "No. You can leave it open."

"But if seeing him bothers you so much, we should really leave it closed."

Marty glanced back at Doc. His head felt like it was going to explode. On the one hand, Doc had saved his life, had risked his own life to rescue him. And judging by his exhausted look, Doc had been through hell in the time he'd been gone. But on the other hand, he looked just like Jack. And if Jack could be like that, who knew what skeletons Doc could have in _his_ closet? Why had he waited so long to save him? It was all too confusing for the teen.

The nurse came over and patted him on the back. "You poor dear. Everything's going to be fine now."

Marty shook his head, starting to cry. "No it won't. It'll never be fine again."

"Oh, honey, don't be like that." She smiled at him. "Do you need anything? Like a bedpan?"

The teen's stomach growled. "Some food would be nice." He tried to keep from giving the overly perky nurse a nasty look.

"I'll grab something for you out of the office. In the meantime, you've got some visitors." She walked out, leaving Marty alone with the sleeping scientist. He snuck a look at his friend, then lay down, his face turned away from Doc. It was too hard to look at him and not think of the past days.

He shivered as his mind involuntarily went back to the warehouse basement. He could still feel those chains fastened around his wrists, scraping his skin raw. The overly clean smells of the hospital were transformed in his mind into the ammonia and other chemicals Jack kept around to keep the machines in perfect working order. He shut his eyes and tried to think of something else, but that simply made it worse. His entire mind was consumed by his memories, forcing him to relive his experiences over and over again. Tears trickled down his face as he felt Jack's fists slam into him again and again. _Damn, why can't it all just stop?_

"Marty?"

Marty yelped and nearly fell off the bed. He felt someone quickly catch him and pull him back. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Lorraine said. "Are you all right?"

Marty was tempted briefly to snap back something sarcastic, but didn't really feel like it. "I was remembering," he said quietly, not looking at her. 

He felt someone's arm slip gently across his shoulders. "My poor little boy," Lorraine said. Her voice sounded like she was crying hard. He glanced over to see that was exactly the case. "I don't know what to say besides I'm sorry."

George came in front of him, looking teary himself. "I'm so glad we got you back, son."

"I'm glad to be back." He allowed his father to hug him, ignoring the pain that came from it. "Dad, I was so afraid I'd never see you again."

"Well, you're here now, and safe. It seems you were gone a lot longer than just six days."

It had been barely a week he had been in that monster's clutches? "Tell me about it. What's today?"

"The 22nd," Dave's voice came. Marty finally looked around to see he was surrounded by his family. "Shit, bro, you look like hell."

"I _feel_ like hell," Marty sighed, lying down again. "How long am I going to have to stay here?"

"I'm afraid for a while," George sighed. "The doctors _say_ you'll recover, but they want to keep a close eye on you for the next week or so. And Dr. Conner suggested quite strongly that we set up some appointments with a counselor for you."

Marty blinked. _Counselor? I have to go see a shrink? Thanks a lot, Dad. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that._

The nurse returned with a tray, followed closely by Dr. Caldwell, Jennifer, and Emily. Jennifer was sobbing hysterically. "It's all my fault! I was the one who saw Jack pick him up, I should have yelled or something. Damn it Marty, I'm so sorry."

"Jennifer. Oh, are you a sight for sore eyes -- literally," Marty weakly joked.

"Jennifer, it wasn't your fault," Emily said soothingly. "How could you have known he wasn't Emmett? Jack can be a very good actor when the times call for it."

"Yeah, he fooled me, didn't he?" Marty said, feeling a chill as he heard the name. "And anyways Jen, if he had known you were there--" He closed his eyes and shook as he thought about what could have happened to his girlfriend. Lorraine put a comforting arm around him, feeling helpless.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked Dr. Caldwell desperately. "He seems so upset. I don't want my little boy suffering from anxiety for the rest of his life."

"He's just gone through a very severe trauma, Mrs. McFly. It'll take time for him to readjust to life outside of Jack's -- world. I'd prefer to discuss it with Marty before I talk to you about it, however. He deserves to know what's happening to him first."

Marty finally shook himself free of the imagined scene. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Nothing to be sorry about." Emily clucked her tongue as she looked at Doc. "He's so adorable when he sleeps. But what about that bandage?"

"He'll be fine, but he's extraordinarily lucky too. The knife wound came _this_ close to slicing open a major artery." He held his thumb and forefinger within millimeters of each other. "And with his recent sleep deprivation, it'll probably take longer for the wound to heal. We'll be watching him for his other condition too." He noticed Marty looking uneasily at Doc and closed the curtain. "I think it would be best if he didn't see Marty for a few days, however."

"Other condition?" Marty asked, allowing Jennifer to feed him. It still hurt a lot when he moved.

"I really don't think we should discuss it with you," Dr. Caldwell said. Emily opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head firmly at her. "Not in your condition. Later, maybe."

Dr. Caldwell allowed the McFlys to fuss over Marty for a little while longer, then shooed them out of the room. "I need to talk to him about his condition." He turned to Marty, who was regarding the curtain with suspicion. "It's all right, Marty. Now, I imagine you have some questions about what's happened to you."

Marty nodded. "How bad is it, Dr. Caldwell?"

"Bad. You've got some internal injuries that we're watching, as well as bruises and lacerations. But what I'm most worried about is your state of mental health. I believe you're suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. In fact, I'd be surprised if you weren't." He launched into a long talk about the symptoms, effects, and possible treatments of the conditions. Marty only half-listened, occasionally asking a question about something he didn't quite understand. Most of it went completely over his head, but he understood that the reason he'd had those horrible flashbacks was PTSD, and that he would definitely have to see a counselor for it. _Why can't you just tell me I'm crazy? I don't want to hear all this shit._

Dr. Caldwell finally finished his speech. "I'll have some literature for you later to read over. In the meantime, I wanted to assure you that, in your state, your reactions are completely normal. Is it all right if I discuss this with your parents?"

Marty nodded. "Yeah, they might as well know."

Dr. Caldwell nodded and very carefully put his hand on Marty's arm. "Try to get some rest, kid. Sleep will help speed the healing process."

Marty panicked. "NO! Don't leave me alone! I don't want to be alone!"

"I can understand," Dr. Caldwell said gently. "But I'll let the nurse stay here with you for a while."

"It isn't the same. It's not like I'm gonna know she's there, and she can't stay forever," the teen whimpered. "Please, don't leave me alone. . . ." He began to sob violently, shaking.

"Would you mind getting the sedative?" Dr. Caldwell asked the nurse. She had obviously anticipated his request and was already holding the syringe. "Oh, thank you. Sorry that I have to do this, but you're getting too upset."

Marty pulled back as the nurse approached him. His eyes saw Jack approaching him with the needle, prepared to inject something horrible into his veins. _Shit! Leave me alone! _he thought wildly, squirming as much as he could. Dr. Caldwell had to hold him down as she injected the sedative. "Now relax, kid. It'll start working in just a few minutes."

The teen began weeping unabashedly. "Don't leave me alone. . . ."

"I'll stay until you fall asleep, gladly." The doctor patted his head and remained by his side. Marty lay down and tried to keep Jack out of his thoughts. After a few minutes, the world grew hazy. Now he could feel Jack's hands wrapping around his throat, choking the life from his body. He tried to fight his growing sleepiness, but it was futile. A moment later, everything went black.


	8. The Discussion

Chapter 8

Tuesday, April 22nd

10: 04 P. M.

_Jack was standing over him, smiling that chilling smile. "Admit it, Martin. You're Emmett's whore. That's how you became friends, isn't it? He needed someone to rape and you needed someone to degrade you. I bet you love it when he forces you to perform for him. I wonder what it's like? Does he bother with a mood at all -- candles, soft music? Or is it just straight perverted sex?" Jack causally strolled about the chamber for a moment, head cocked in a thinking pose, licking his lips. "What _is_ it like, Martin? Having him force you to your knees, then unzipping his pants and taking out his organ. It must be so violating to have to perform fellatio on him. And knowing you that must feel so good, especially where my brother is involved." He stopped again in front of him. "I wonder how good it'll feel now, you disgusting little pervert." _

Doc snapped awake, shaking like a leaf. Sweat was streaming down his face, which he wiped away. _Great Scott. I haven't had a nightmare like that since I was a kid. And they were never anything graphic._ He shook his head, feeling slimly all over. The way the dream version of Jack had described the scene, Doc could clearly understand, even see, what he was talking about. _I need a hot shower._

He looked around and found himself staring into almost total pitch-blackness. The only light was the soft glowing of readouts from various monitors. _Where in the name of Sir Issac H. Newton am I? The last thing I remember is rescuing Marty from Jack. . . ._

_Marty! Damn it, where's Marty?!_

Doc felt himself start to hyperventilate. _Please let him be all right. If he's suffered any more, it could mean insanity. I have to--_

_Wait a moment. Didn't Jack call me Marty in my dream?_

The scientist blinked in amazement. Their mysterious telepathic link was still working. Marty must have been dreaming about what Jack had done to him. His body shook with rage. _Poor Marty. If that bastard did that to him, I'll kill him with my bare hands. _

"Help, somebody! No, don't, don't! Please, anything but that!"

Doc started, then turned his head to the side. Marty was sobbing hard, still in the nightmare's grip. Even though he couldn't see his best friend, he could tell exactly how he felt. "Damn it, why can't you just kill me and get it over with?! I want to die."

Doc's heart broke as he listened to Marty. _My best friend. The one who saved my life. And I let him be tortured by a ruthless maniac with my face. He must hate me for not trying to get to him sooner. I hate me too . . . I should have done something earlier. Something. Anything. He'll never be able to look at me again without thinking of Jack. Damn it, why do I hurt everyone I love? I'm sure I'm an embarrassment to my sister, my _twin brother_ went over the edge due to hating me, and Marty's been dubbed another town freak. All I've ever done is hurt people. Maybe I should be thankful to that perverted bastard for helping Marty get away from me. _Overwhelmed by guilt and sadness, Doc began to cry.

Marty jerked himself awake with a gasp. These flashbacks and dreams were really pissing him off. Wasn't he ever going to be free of Jack? He slumped down against the pillows and stared blankly into the darkness. 

He became aware of someone crying nearby. Puzzled, he turned his head toward it. "Doc? Is that you?"

Doc quickly dried his tears. "Yes, Marty, it's me."

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Finally Doc asked, "How long have I been deprived of consciousness?"

"A while." Marty had to admit, it was a lot easier to talk to Doc when he couldn't see what he looked like. "Over a day for the both of us."

"Ah." There was another silence, as Doc struggled with what he wanted to say. He didn't want to upset Marty further. "Did your family come see you?"

"Yeah, along with Jennifer and your sister. It was nice seeing them again." For a moment, Marty convinced himself that it was Jack in the other bed, not Doc, but he managed to shake the delusion off. "You okay, Doc?"

"Only my shoulder hurts," Doc said. Marty frowned -- Doc's tone suggested he was hurting a lot more.

"You sure, Doc?" he probed gently.

Doc sighed. "Well, truthfully, I'm extremely sorry you had to go through all you did. I never wanted that to happen to you. I should have warned you about Jack earlier, but I thought he was out of my life forever. I'm so sorry."

"How the hell were you supposed to know, Doc?" Marty replied. "_I_ couldn't tell he wasn't you at first. Jack was a good actor." Saying the name gave him a shiver.

"But I should have done more!" Doc burst out. "I should have been out there looking for you. I should have been distributing flyers or something. You're my best friend, and I owe it to you. If it hadn't been for those damn fits--"

"The doctor mentioned those too! What's been going _on_ with you, Doc?"

Doc hesitated. "Are you sure you want to know, Marty?"

"Trust me, Doc, nothing can shock me anymore."

"All right then. Ever since you were kidnaped, I've been experiencing these debilitating attacks. Not one of them resembled the other -- I always felt different during each one. And no one has any clue what brought them on."

Marty shuddered. "Sounds like we've both been through hell."

"I'm sure you've been through more layers than I have. I'm so glad I was able to find you in time to stop that bastard from--" Doc stopped, unable to think about what might have happened if he had gotten there even a second too late. He began to cry again. "Marty, I'm so sorry. . . ."

Marty had no idea what to do. He wanted to comfort Doc somehow, but part of him refused to get close to someone who looked so much like Jack. He slammed his fist into the bed, frustrated to the extreme. _Damn it! Why the hell did it have to be my best friend's twin? This wouldn't be half as shitty if I could still be close to him._

"I know, Marty, I should have _told _you about him," Doc reiterated. "I'll fully understand if you can't look at me."

Marty blinked, then remembered. "You can still read my mind?"

"Yes. In fact, I know what you were just dreaming about." Doc's temper flared. "Did that bastard really do that to you?"

"He was gonna, but I told him I would bite it off if he did," Marty said, unconsciously cringing at Doc's tone. "He did manage to French me." He made a disgusted face, recalling how violated he had felt during the experience.

"I know, I felt that too," Doc said, another wave of guilt crashing over him. "Marty, I can't tell you how sorry I am for you. I promise I'll do anything to help you get better."

"Thanks, Doc." There was a pause. "Hold on a second, you _felt_ him French me? How?"

Doc abruptly realized what he had said. A lightbulb came on over his head. "Oh my God. . . . My fits -- they must have been connected to when Jack was torturing you. I was feeling what you were."

"Holy shit," Marty gasped, amazed. "You felt him torturing me? Christ, Doc. How much did you feel?"

"I don't know, but a lot," Doc confessed. "I especially remember this one time -- I think it was the first time I heard Jack's voice. I suddenly couldn't respire, and I found myself pummeling the ground with my fists. When it was all over, I thought I could perceive his vocal chords vibrating--"

He heard Marty giggle across from him in the darkness. "What's funny?"

"I just missed the way you talked, Doc," Marty said. "Don't worry, I got what you were saying."

Doc smiled a little -- it was nice to hear Marty laugh. "I'm glad to hear that."

Marty made himself more comfortable on the bed. "Doc, why do you think we can read each other's minds?"

"I don't know, but it does explain how you can tell what I need before I need it. I wonder how long you've been able to do that?"

"Ever since we first met, Doc. Remember when I first met Jennifer?" Marty felt a little more at ease now. The darkness was almost comforting, protecting him from the terror of Doc's face while allowing him to hear his voice. "You knew exactly what I needed."

Doc frowned. "Even still, I think an event in the past precipitated this. What could allow me to gain the ability earlier than you?" 

"I dunno, Doc. Maybe we always both had it?"

"I don't think so. Otherwise our telepathy would work with other people, and I don't think it does. I'll have to run a test in the morning. No, Marty, I believe that we were affected by something--"

Once again, he had a sudden revelation. "The mind-reading machine! Marty, do you remember that shock it gave us?"

There was no reply from the teen. "Marty?" He quickly read the teen's mind and found him in the grips of a flashback. He could almost feel himself on that rack, his back being stretched to the breaking point. Knives along the edges carved long stripes into his sides, covering the machine with his blood. The pain was practically blinding him -- all he could see was whiteness. Jack's laughter reverberated through his skull, increasing the pain tenfold. . . .

Doc snapped himself free of Marty's flashback with an effort. _God, that brings back memories. Jack's refined his style._ Needing to do something to help his best friend, he got out of bed and bumped his way to Marty's. He found the teenager shaking and moaning, obviously completely unaware of his surroundings. Doc hesitated a moment. _Is this the right thing to do for Marty? Damn, I have to do _something_._ Then, mentally crossing his fingers, he pulled his friend into a hug. "Marty. Marty."

"Doc?" Marty emerged from the delusion to find himself safely in Doc's arms. Tears came to his eyes. "Doc, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He held Marty close, allowing the teen to hear his heartbeat. "It affected me too. That f***ing bastard. I'm ashamed to be related to him."

Marty closed his eyes and let Doc hold him. He was reminded of how he had clung to Doc when his friend had rescued him. _I guess the only problem I have with him is his face. That's not too bad._ He snuggled into Doc's chest, returning the hug. "Thanks for snapping me out of it."

"No problem." Doc found himself remembering his own experiences with Jack, so long ago. They were rather soft stuff compared to what Marty had gone through, but they still caused him pain. Unknowingly he tightened his grip on Marty, wishing Jack had never been born.

Marty sighed as another flashback tried to pull him away from Doc's embrace. It was a rather simple one, his arm twisted painfully back behind his back. Jack continued to increase the pressure, just enough to cause maximum pain without breaking the arm. "Say uncle, Emmett," he cooed in his --

_Emmett?_

Marty's eyes snapped open. "He did it to you too?"

"What?"

"Jack tortured you too?"

"I don't really want to talk about what happ -- How did you know? I didn't want to tell you while you were recovering. I don't want to stress you."

"My latest flashback was one of yours." Marty felt tears come to his eyes. _Damn it, Doc, you could have told me. You're the only one who's gonna really understand. And I can't even look at you! _

_Marty, I just want you to be safe. We can get through this. I promise I'll do everything in my power to help you with any issues you may have._

_Thanks, Doc._ He felt Doc start to move away and pulled him back. _Could you stay here? Please? In case I have another nightmare? I don't want to be left alone._

_Of course._


	9. The End of the Road

Chapter 9

Tuesday, April 29th, 1986

Hill Valley

7: 43 P. M.

It was a hard adjustment to life outside the hospital. Marty was still struggling with his Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. At least once a day he'd experience a flashback or nightmare about the torture he had suffered. He couldn't go back to school for three days. In fact, the day he was released, he found himself unable to face the world outside the house. He was also upset by the fact that his parents had set up an appointment for him with a psychiatrist. Marty had protested as much as possible, but they had refused to back down. "Honey, you need someone to talk to. I'm sure Dr. Adams will be a perfectly wonderful woman," Lorraine told him.

"Everybody's going to think I've lost it," Marty grumbled over dinner. "That's the last thing I need, more people teasing me."

"You don't have to go to school tomorrow, Marty," George said gently. "We're not going to make you. You're welcome to stay home again."

Marty shook his head. "I need to see my friends again. I'm going a little stir-crazy around here."

"All right. But if anything happens, go straight to the school nurse. She'll send you home."

"Okay." Marty got up from the table. "May I be excused?"

"Of course. Do you want one of us to come with you?"

Marty shook his head. "I think I'll be all right." He went down the hall, followed by the worried looks of his family. With a mournful sigh, he fell onto his bed. _I hope I can get through the day tomorrow. At least Jennifer's gonna be there for me, along with the band. Damn it, what happens if I have a flashback while in one of my classes and everyone sees? People are gonna think I'm nuts. And I've still got the appointment with the shrink. I hate my life._

Suddenly, he felt someone slide their arms around him gently. He smiled a little. "Thanks," he said, turning to see the identity of the person who had hugged him.

He was totally alone.

For a split second, Marty was certain he had gone over the edge. Then he heard a familiar voice in his mind. _Sorry. I didn't think._

_It's okay, Doc._ Marty shook his head. _I can't get over how weird this is. You sure that the mind-reading accident would do all of this to us?_

_It's the best explanation I have at the moment,_ Doc thought back, squeezing the pillow he was holding a little tighter. He too was having a hard time adjusting. All the media attention on the event had made quite a bit of the fact that Doc was Jack's brother, and people were responding accordingly. He had spent the better part of a day scrubbing off insulting graffiti from his house. People from all parts of Hill Valley were telling him he was probably no better than his brother. One had even literally spat in his face. The scientist had tried to get them to understand what he had done for Marty, but no one listened. They were all too interested in the picture the media was painting of him and his brother as horrible monsters. The fact that Marty was unable to look him in the eyes just aggravated his hurt. _How are you coping?_

_I'm still having those flashbacks. And I can't go to sleep unless someone's sitting beside me. I'm scared as hell about school tomorrow. Do you think everyone's gonna think I'm crazy?_

_I doubt it. If anything I'm sure you'll receive an outpouring of sympathy. Everyone in the town knows what happened._

_Yeah, Dad had to beat off the reporters who wanted to talk to me. How about you, Doc? Are you okay?_

_Jack's connection to me has led to some nasty incidents. And the reporters I have talked to have treated me like I was no better than him._

_Those bastards. You saved my life. Maybe I'll tell Dad I want to talk to some of those jerks._

_Don't over-stress yourself on my behalf, Marty. I feel bad enough about you as it is. _

Marty hit a pillow in frustration. _I wish this had never happened. I wish that everything was normal again._

Doc sighed. _You're not the only one, Marty. I wish too that we could go back and --_

_Go back. . . ._

Doc's eyes grew wide. _Marty, I'm an idiot! I _can_ go back and prevent this from ever happening! I can just use the DeLorean and somehow prevent you from getting into Jack's van! It's the optimal idea! I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier! I'll go right now and set things right!_

_Doc! Wait a minute!_

Doc paused, having jumped to his feet in excitement. Marty's tone sounded much different than he had expected it to. _What's wrong, Marty? _

_I don't want you to use the DeLorean._

What???_ Marty, I thought you would love for me to manipulate time for your advantage. This is probably one of the few times I'd be willing to do it, too._

_Yeah, but lots of stuff could go wrong, Doc. Jack could just grab me again later. He was pretty dead-set on killing me._ Marty shivered. _And even if it did work, I -- I don't want you to have to live with the memories._

_I'd be willing to make that sacrifice for you. _

_Trust me, it's not fun. My old memories of geeky Dad never went away. Imagine having the memories we've got along with okay ones!_

Doc sighed and sat down again. Marty was making some excellent points. What use would it be to stop the original kidnaping if Jack somehow found a way around it? And what good would it do if when he went home he was bothered forever by painful memories that had never happened? Possibly even going insane from the memories? _Damn it!_ he thought angrily. _I build a time machine to use for the good of mankind and I can't even use it to help my best friend!_

Marty was about to agree with him when he abruptly saw a funny side to the conversation they had just had. _Jesus, I just realized something. _I_ was explaining time travel stuff to _you_!_

Doc laughed briefly. _That's one for the record books. Marty McFly explains time travel pitfalls to Doc Brown. _Then his mood grew somber again. _I miss having you over here._

_I miss going over to your place. But I still can't think of your face without thinking of Jack. You think you could use the DeLorean to make you guys not be twins at least?_

_To tell the truth, Marty, I have been considering plastic surgery. At least we have this._ Doc picked up the pillow again and gave it another squeeze. _Let me know how it goes tomorrow, all right?_

_Sure thing, Doc._

Wednesday, April 30th, 1986

Hill Valley 

10: 43 A. M.

As it turned out, Marty didn't have to tell Doc how it went at all. The scientist was converting a few of his clocks to solar time when he felt fear envelop him. An all-consuming horror. For a moment, he was completely paralyzed, breathing hard, feeling like he had to get away. _Shit, why would he start teaching this today? I really can't handle this. I just --_

_Wait a minute, those aren't my thoughts! Marty, what happened?_

He got a brief flash in his mind of Marty's history classroom, with an exhibit on the Inquisition. It was complete with miniature versions of torture equipment. _Oh, I see. Want me to do anything?_

_No, I -- I'm heading to the nurse right now with Jennifer. Damn it, just when I saw that stuff. . . . You can still feel it when I get afraid?_

_Not like my fits, but yes, I felt it as you might feel it. Possibly due to what we've just gone through, this talent of ours makes us hypersensitive to each other's feelings. The nurse will know what to do, right?_

_Yeah, she'll call my parents. Shit, I wanted to get through one day without anything happening to me. I'm sick of having PSTD._

_I'm here for you if you need me, Marty._

_Thanks, Doc._ The teen cut the connection as they entered the nurse's office. She took one look at him and called his parents. They came immediately to pick him up. Marty tried to convince them that he'd probably be fine if he could just skip history, but they refused to listen. Which turned out to be a blessing the minute a kid from the class saw him. The look of indifferent pity he gave him hurt a lot. _None of them know what it's like. Not one of them. I've got nobody who'd understand._

_Except Doc._

He looked up from the floor of the family BMW. "Hey, could you drop me off at Doc's house?"

Lorraine turned to look at him. "You sure, honey? We all know about--"

"Yeah, positive. I want to see him again. I miss him."

Lorraine looked at George. "Well, all right, if you're sure you can handle it."

"I'm sure." He waited out the rest of the drive in silence. Lorraine gave him one last pleading look as they pulled up to Doc's place. It was obvious she didn't want her youngest to be in any discomfort. "Don't worry, Mom, I'll be okay."

"If you need to come home, call us," Lorraine made him promise. They both gave him a hug, then lingered in the parking lot as Marty walked up and knocked on the door.

Doc answered it, but immediately stepped back as he saw who it was. "Marty. This is a bit of a surprise, to see you in the flesh. What brings you here?"

"I wanted to see you again," Marty said, looking at Doc's feet. "After what happened in school today." _I just need to know that there's somebody else who understands about Jack._

Doc nodded. "Come on in." He waved hello to Marty's parents, then shut the door. Marty was seated on the nearby cot, a depressed look on his face. "What happened after you cut off?"

"Mom and Dad came to pick me up. I saw a kid from history before I left, though. The way he looked at me -- he didn't give a shit. It hadn't happened to him, so why should he give a shit?"

Doc sat down next to him and put his arm around him. "It appears that we belong to a very exclusive club, Marty. One nobody on the outside can truly comprehend."

Marty snuggled into Doc. _This feels like that night at the hospital. Just the two of us against everybody else._

_I wouldn't say "against," Marty. "Apart" would be the more accurate word. _

_Whatever. We know, they don't. Simple as that._ Marty adjusted his position. _What did Jack do to you?_

_Do you really want to talk about that?_

_Better you than some shrink that's gonna take notes and tell me whether I'm nuts or not. I really don't want to go see that Dr. Adams on Friday. _

_I don't blame you, really. Psychiatrists tend to make me uncomfortable as well. Possibly because the entire town thinks I'm crazy. But I don't want to worry you._

_Doc, after what I've seen, nothing can. I really want to talk about this. I'm not as fragile as everyone thinks._ There was a pause. _Well, not totally._

Doc smiled a little. _Jack wasn't as cruel to me as he was to you. After all, he was only a kid back when he tortured me. He beat me up often. But sometimes -- sometimes it would be more like your experiences. He built a rack for a history project once, and I was his test to see if it worked._

Marty shivered. _Did yours have knives built into the sides?_

_No, that was an innovation he hadn't yet come upon._ He patted Marty's head gently. _I know it seems impossible now, but you will heal from what's happened to you. I managed to. It took a while, but eventually I healed._

_It feels like I'm gonna be waking up screaming for the rest of my life. You ever have nightmares?_

_Sometimes. But they fade with time. If it's any comfort, I've been having nightmares too. I can't stop thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't arrived in time._ Tears formed in his eyes, but he blinked them back. _Marty, I would do anything for you. Trust me on that. You're like a son to me._

_Yeah, I know. Itch laybe ditch, mine sohn or something like that._

_It's "Ich liebe Dich, mein Sohn," Marty. Not -- Wait a minute, how did you know about that?!_

_You woke me up when you said it. I looked it up._

Doc felt himself blush. _I hope I didn't embarrass you. I was simply so lonely back in 1955._

_Relax, Doc. I -- uh -- you wanna see?_ He let Doc see his memory of looking up what the words meant, then returning the favor. _It really meant a lot to me._

The scientist smiled and pulled Marty closer. _It means a lot to me too. We'll get through this._

_You keep saying that._

_I'm going to keep saying it until you believe it. We _will_ get through this._

Friday, May 2nd, 1986

Hill Valley

4: 23 P. M.

Marty stormed into the house, absolutely furious. He slammed the door shut and sat himself heavily on the couch. Dave looked up from his book. "Marty?"

"I'm never going back to see that b*tch Dr. Adams again," Marty growled. "She's the worst shrink on the planet, and she can go to hell."

"Christ, what did she do?" Dave asked.

"What did who do?" asked Lorraine, coming in with Linda.

"Tell Dr. Adams she can go check _herself_ into the looney bin," Marty said, voice cold. "She's a total jackass."

Lorraine looked confused. "You've only gone to one session with her and already you think she's a jackass?"

"One session is all I could take! She's one of those people who wants to help you, but does it in such a way that you want to kill yourself! You know, those 'perky' types."

Linda frowned. "Sounds like she made one hell of a first impression on you, bro."

"Yeah, as she did nothing except b*tch about Doc the entire time."

"_What_? Why on earth. . . ?"

"She thinks he should be committed," Marty explained. "I tried to tell her that Doc's my friend, but she refused to listen to me. When I told her Doc rescued me, she wanted to know how he would have known he was there if--" Marty's voice came close to breaking. "If they weren't in cahoots," he finished quietly.

Lorraine's eyes narrowed. "That woman. . . . I can't believe that! Doc _hates_ Jack! Don't worry, Marty, I'll find you a new therapist."

"I don't _want_ a new therapist! I don't want a therapist at all! I just want to put all of this behind me! I want things to be normal again!"He put his head in his hands. "Why can't everything just be like it was before?"

Lorraine leaned over him and patted his back lovingly. "I know, Marty. I want to turn back the clock myself. But this is not going to go away." She sighed. "I'll call Dr. Caldwell and ask for his advice. You only have to see the second psychiatrist once, and if you don't like him, we'll leave it be. Okay?"

"Okay," Marty groaned. "I'm gonna go over to Doc's." He needed to sit with his best friend again.

Lorraine smiled as she dialed Dr. Caldwell. "I'm glad you two are talking again."

"It's not like we had a fight, Mom. But it is nice to be able to go over his place again. Just wish I could look him in the eyes." 

"Hopefully soon you will."

Monday, May 5th, 1986

Hill Valley

4: 10 P. M.

Marty walked nervously into Dr. Robinson's office. To his surprise, Doc was sitting in the waiting room, face buried in a magazine. "Doc? What are you doing here? Mom send you over?"

"Actually, Dr. Robinson called me here. She apparently got the briefing from your doctor and wanted me to be at this session with you for some reason." Doc kept the magazine firmly in front of his face. "I suspect her ulterior motive is to suggest therapy for _me_ as well."

"Be glad that I'm not going to Dr. Adams anymore, then," Marty said, sitting next to him. "She hates you, Doc. I can't believe she would suggest that you and Jack were working together."

"It makes my blood boil," Doc muttered, his voice cold. Then it warmed again. "But I don't think I'll reject her offer. I do have a few issues to work through."

A young, green-eyed woman emerged from the next room. "Marty McFly?" Marty stood up. "Hello, I'm Dr. Robinson. Please, come in."

"Do I have a choice?" Marty joked weakly. Doc gave him a thumbs up, making sure the magazine stayed in place. Marty returned it and followed Dr. Robinson into the room. She picked up a notepad and pen as he looked around the room. It was painted in soft, neutral colors, the kind used to calm people. They weren't having too much of an effect on the nervous teen. "Uh -- do you want me to sit on the couch, or--?"

"You can sit wherever you feel comfortable." Marty uneasily lowered himself into a chair. "Now, Marty, I understand you've been suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

Marty nodded. "Yeah, it sucks like nothing else. I hate it."

"I don't blame you. Having to mentally relive such an experience could cause serious emotional scars. Dr. Conner also told me that the prevalent symptom of the disorder seems to be the inability to look at your best friend's face."

Marty nodded again, looking at his sneakers as he blushed. "Yeah. He saved my life, and I can't even look at him."

"Why?"

The teen blinked. "_Why_?? Don't you know? I'm sure those media hounds were all over it."

"My TV's been broken for a week, and Dr. Conner only told me the bare essentials of your condition."

Marty blushed harder, wishing he didn't have to say this. It was like saying it would make it real. "Doc and Jack -- the guy who tortured me -- are twins."

"Identical twins?" Marty nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on his sneakers. "Dear me. Well, I believe we should work on that first, don't you?" She started asking a few general questions about their relationship, both before and after the "incident." Marty answered them, slowly beginning to loosen up. Soon he was telling her about the various tortures he had suffered at Jack's hand. She listened very carefully, took many notes, and occasionally offered emotional support during the more graphic moments.

Marty finally finished up. "Whew! You know, it felt good to get that all out. Thanks."

"You're welcome." She studied her notes for a moment. "I can hardly believe there could be a person alive as soulless as Jack," she murmured under her breath. "It appears to be a simple case of emotional transference."

"Heh?"

"Since Doc has the same face as Jack, you associate your negative experiences with him. That's why you can't look at him. We have to replace the negative feelings with positive ones for Doc. I'm not promising miracles, but I promise that you will be able to look at his face again soon." She flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. "All right then, let's get started."

Monday, May 12th, 1986

Hill Valley

3: 45 P. M.

Marty shivered as Jack walked into the room, accompanied by a lawyer and a guard. Beside him, Doc glared at his twin with a look of total hatred. Lorraine, forming the other slice of the sandwich, squeezed Marty's shoulder gently. "He can't get you here."

"He doesn't have to," Marty muttered, remembering his nightmares. Doc glanced over at him. __

_I know. I've been having some myself. Sometimes I think the therapy just makes them worse._ Both he and Marty had been patients of Dr. Robinson for a week. Although they both liked her, and seemed to be making some progress with their "emotional issues," as she had termed them, they still hated the stigma of having to see a shrink. _At least you'll have the satisfaction of seeing him sentenced._

_Now? Doc, we haven't even gone through a trial yet!_

_We won't have to. I know my brother. He doesn't feel like he did anything wrong. He'll plead guilty and be sentenced. _He glared at Jack again. This time Jack caught his gaze and gave him his snake smile. Marty tried not to show that Jack was getting to him.

"The Honorable Judge Bartholomew Smith presiding, all rise," the bailiff said in a bored tone. The McFlys and Browns rose as one as the judge came in, shuffling papers. He motioned for them to sit, and they sat, Jack flashing one final look towards the friends. Marty gritted his teeth. _I will not let that bastard get to me._

The bailiff informed the judge of the charges -- kidnaping and attempted murder. Doc exchanged a disgusted glance with George. That hardly did justice to what Marty had gone through. What they had all gone through.

The judge looked down his nose at Jack and his lawyer, sitting calmly behind their table. "How does the accused plead?"

"Guilty, Your Honor," the lawyer said, his voice as oily as his hair. "My client has nothing to apologize for."

"Nothing to apologize for!" Lorraine shrieked, momentarily losing her composure. "Your Honor, do you know what he _did_ to my son?!"

"I've heard, Mrs. McFly," Judge Smith said, shooting Jack a venomous look. Then he turned the look onto Doc. "Which makes it odd that you keep the company of other Browns."

"_Doc saved my life._" Although Marty said this in a hissing whisper, it immediately became the loudest noise in the room. Doc took the teen's hand discreetly, both offering and taking moral support through the touch. "_If it hadn't been for him, that -- that _thing_ would be on trial for murder._"

Jack didn't seem too bothered by being called a "thing." He gave the judge a disarming look. "Such is life, isn't it? I do admit my original intention was to kill the boy, but my dear brother interfered with my plans. I truly believe I have nothing to apologize for. Why should I? _I'm_ not the one with a problem about my actions." He grinned at the McFlys and his brother, making their flesh crawl. "So, why don't we get this over with and pass sentence?"

Marty scowled and looked up at Doc. "The nerve of that fu--"

He froze. He was looking at Doc. More specifically, he was looking at Doc's face. And he wasn't immediately cringing in fear or being reminded of the horrors he'd had to suffer. No -- he was looking at Doc like he had before. Like his best friend.

Doc felt eyes on him. He looked down, then quickly looked up again, not wanting to worry his friend. It was bad enough he had to be present to see his brother sentenced, no sense in making it worse. . . .

_No, Doc. Look at me._

Confused, the scientist glanced down. Marty was looking at him without a trace of fear in his eyes. In fact, he was beginning to smile. Doc felt the corners of his own mouth lift hesitantly. Could it be? He allowed Marty a more direct view of his face, locking their eyes. There was a brief feeling that Doc couldn't describe, but it quickly passed as he realized Marty wasn't looking away. They could look at each other again. _I think Dr. Robinson deserves a present, don't you think?_

_Yeah, a big one. A really, really big one._

After a few minutes of deliberation, Judge Smith passed his verdict -- 50 years behind bars. The McFlys were upset it wasn't life, until Emily pointed out to them that Jack might not live another 50 years. "And at least there was no mention of parole," she added as they left the courthouse, leaving Jack behind. 

"I would have killed him had the judge mentioned he might get parole," Lorraine growled. George pulled her close, nodding his agreement with that. Dave and Linda just looked relieved to be away from the man who had tortured their brother. "Come on, I think this calls for a celebration."

"It certainly does," Marty said, hugging Doc tight, not taking his eyes off his face. Doc hugged back twice as hard. It would still be a long road back to full recovery, but now that they had each other back, it wouldn't be half as hard.

The End


End file.
